


My own fault

by syusuke



Category: Naruto
Genre: Idiots in Love, MadaTobi Week 2019, Madara is Apollo, Minor Character Death, Mythology and Folklore, Senju Tobirama Needs a Hug, Superstition, Tobirama is Cassandra, a good talk would settle it, dubcon for a sec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20126938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syusuke/pseuds/syusuke
Summary: Tobirama is cursed. He is doomed to witness death and destruction with no way to stop it.





	My own fault

Tobirama stood frozen in place as he saw the village burn.

Flames were raining down on it, consuming every last house. They were licking up the Hokage tower, destroying everything they had work for so hard. And yet, Hashirama was still standing. He was forcing the fire back with the stronget water jutsu he knew. They weren’t as strong as Tobirama’s water dragons, but they bought him some time. Enough time to clear an escape route for the civilians while the other shinobi joined him in his efforts to salvage as much as they could. They didn’t know who attacked them. They couldn’t see the enemy.

Tobirama knew. Tobirama had seen it coming.

* * *

“Brother, listen.”, Tobirama desperately held Hashirama back, “It’s a trap.”

“That’s enough! You are a priest. You have no place on the battlefield and even less on my council. Pray to your god, if you’re so worried about us.”, Hashirama shouted at him as he freed his arm. His gaze was full of anger and annoyed accusation.

Tobirama left the war council. They had stopped listening to him years ago. But he tried! He still tried. He had told them what happened that fateful night, he’d told them of the bright figure he’d met. He’d told them. All his efforts were in vain.

* * *

Itama was the first to die. Tobirama was not surprised when the corpse was handed to him with orders to organize the service. His eyes were already red rimmed and wet with tears. He had been mourning ever since the first vision, only hours after the patrol had left.

He had begged. He had dropped to his knees in front of the council and begged them to send a second patrol. When they denied it, he had begged that they let him go. At least, he could have tried. Any tiny chance to save his brother would have been enough. But they had ridiculed him, called him a doom prophet and locked him in the temple. Not even Hashirama had stood up for him. They had even gone as far as sealing his chakra, wary of his disobedience.

They had locked him in the temple and alone with his racing mind and aching heart, he had prayed. He had prayed to the cruel god who had made him suffer through this visions. He had prayed to Madara. He had offered everything he had. His body, his mind, his chakra. Everything, but the one thing the god desired. He could not offer him his undying love. He could not lie to him for the god would know. His prayers remained unheard.

At the funeral he recited the traditional prayers. He asked for safe passage to the realm of the dead and a warm welcome from the generations before them. He asked the anchestors to take care of his beloved brother. And when no one payed attention to him anymore, he added a prayer for his mother to walk beside Itama on the long way to the afterlife.

He did not dare to pray for himself anymore. He had seen his own death. He had seen his lifeless body floating down the river, clad in his white robes and wearing his brother’s green juwel. It was a peaceful image. Tobirama longed for death. It would be better than watching his loved ones suffer.

* * *

It had been five years since the curse. Five years since nobody believed a word Tobirama said.

It had been only six weeks since Kawarama died and Tobirama had locked himself away in the temple. He didn’t bother to light the candles or open the blinds. He sat in darkness. Indifferent to the world around him.

_“You could have said yes. That is all I asked of you.”_

Tobirama ignored the words. He recognized the voice, but he had no will to face the god.

_“Such a beautiful young man you were and look at you now. You were arrogant and proud.”_

He stood up from his futon. His steps were light, barely audible as he approached the altar. A big red eye was engraved in it. Tobirama traced one tomoe.

_“I thought our love was true. I loved you more than any other mortal. I gave you the gift of foresight!”_

Tobirama closed his eyes. His words were quiet, controlled: “I never asked for that.” He felt the god’s presence behind him and repeated: “I never wanted this. I was content with what we had.” He felt the soft touch of gloved fingers on his shoulders. He felt them moving down his arms, until they stopped on top of his own hands, holding on. Tobirama laughed shakily. He had missed his presence.

_“You were always meant to be mine. You bear my mark and I wanted you to be mine, speak my prophecies.”_

“Madara”, his voice trembled, “if you ever had any affection for me. End this. Surely, there is something I can offer you in return? I’d give anything. Anything.”

The hands didn’t stop their exploration. They were gliding along his body as if he was simply a piece of meat. Tobirama wanted to squirm, to move away. Instead he stood still, his fingers white from his grip.

Once he had hoped that a god at least would understand. Once he had hoped Madara could be the one being that didn’t want him for his body. He had stood out since birth. The first case of albinism in the Senju clan. Skin almost white, eyes red like a god’s. He had struggled all his life to be viewed as more than an especially fine specimen to be bred. Oh, how he had rejoiced when Madara had answered his prayers. How he had loved their first meetings, their long talks under the moonlight. Madara had seemed so interested in his ideas, he had praised his creativity and Tobirama had thrived. He had invented with renewed spirit and offered all of his findings to the god. He had been proud when Madara offered him a gift in return.

He had been cursed that moment. Madara had pressed him against a tree and had held him there. Not relenting when he struggled. But Tobirama was strong for a mortal and he had used all his power to shove him away. Madara must have seen the disappointment in his face, the anger and pain. The god was deceptively calm as he damned him. No attempt at consolidation had been heard.

_“Anything? It is a little late for that. I am in a good mood though. There is one last offer, a testament to my generosity. Sacrifice your life in my honor and I’ll grant you a place with the muses. Your mind is too bright to be wasted on mortals.”_

"Gladly..."

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my God, this turned out so much messier than I wanted it to be.  
As you can probably tell, I couldn't decide whether I liked Tobirama as Cassandra or Tobirama as a Muse better, so I tried to combine it.  
I thought Madara as the "sun god" with his quick temper and fire nature fit quit well.
> 
> I hope it does come across that this is technically not a one-sided love. Rather Tobirama was surprised and disappointed by the quick change in pace and the two idiots never sorted it out.


End file.
